


Saudade e Esperança

by dancer4813



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Chroma Conclave Arc, Episode 56 - "Hope", Introspection, Spoilers up to Episode 56, Tal'dorei Campaign, Vax Introspection, Westruun, and he's got a lot on his mind, because it's Vax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7836343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancer4813/pseuds/dancer4813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vax lingers after helping Amelia bury her father and takes some time to sort through his thoughts on the younger girl's words.<br/>--<br/><em> “You carry too much sadness with you. You’ve done a lot of good… Let yourself- Let yourself understand and… accept the fact that you’ve done a lot of good.” </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Saudade e Esperança

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea for writing this immediately after watching the episode - Vax had to have done something during that time he was missing... But I didn't have any solid inspiration to write it until these last few episodes came out, especially with episode 64 on the 18th. (No spoilers, but it was kinda crazy how bits of this fic tied into that episode so well.) The title is Portuguese for "Longing and Hope", though the word "saudade" has a more specified meaning of nostalgia for someone whom you love who is absent, something I felt corresponded very strongly with both the twins in this part of the Chroma Conclave arc. 
> 
> So yeah, here it is, and I hope you enjoy this first foray of mine into writing for the Critical Role fandom! *less than three*
> 
> -*-  
>  _"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant."_  
>  -The 11th Doctor, Doctor Who - "Vincent and the Doctor"

Vax brushed dirt from his pants where he’d been kneeling on the ground, helping Amelia lay her father to rest near her family’s homestead. The girl, a young woman only just on the verge of adulthood, had said little during the hours they worked to dig a grave, the work taking most of the afternoon, and all they needed to do at this stage was fill the hole back in. The teenager had worked hard and ceaselessly, keeping up with him for the most part and making the work quicker.

The half-elf had tried not to think about Reginald as they dug the hole (a difficult task as the man was the reason for their labor), but when his thoughts had strayed to the man, the father whose wife hadn’t been mentioned, who had left a daughter behind, Vax wanted nothing more than to run back into the city and pull his sister into a tight hug. The destruction of Emon, of Westruun, the close brushes they’d had with death in the past weeks, it was all hitting too close to home.

Byroden had been burned to the ground by Thordak, only ashes and a few survivors left in the town. By sheer luck (and, likely, the Herd of Storms’ bargain with Umbrasyl) Westruun had fared better. And still, the inhabitants had suffered so much.

Vax banished the memories of smoldering buildings and charred ruins, and jammed the shovel with unnecessary force into pile of dirt on the hillside, establishing a harsh rhythm of strokes as he did so. It wasn’t fair that these dragons could just swoop down and taken away everything from these people. The Conclave had no quarrel with the people of Westruun, nor with the people of Emon, for the most part. Thordak wanted vengeance on Allura, Kima, and the others they had travelled with, but that was for tricking him into being caught in the fire realm for many long years. Where the other dragons fit in was unclear, and it seemed as though they were simply along for the ride. Perhaps Thordak had promised them riches or cities of their own to conquer and hold dominion over. Perhaps he’d simply wanted to use them to enact his plot for revenge on Exandria, and after they had finished he would strike them down. The massive red dragon was certainly powerful enough to do so, and Vax wouldn’t put it past him to turn on the rest of the Conclave if their plans went so far.

Of course, Vax and the rest of Vox Machina wasn’t planning to let them get much farther. Once they had the rest of the Vestiges they would gather forces with any who would fight and take down the Cinder King and his compatriots, avenging his mother’s death and the deaths of many other loved ones in Exandria.

Vax straightened up as the last shovelful of dirt landed on completed grave, watching carefully as Amelia did the same, the newly-turned ground of her father’s grave dark against the surrounding green of the hillside. The slowly descending sun illuminated the girl’s face as she stared at the dirt and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It seemed she had shed all the tears she had, and left behind was a quiet acceptance, and a lasting regret. A regret Vax knew would never fully fade.

“To lose a parent before their time is no easy thing,” he said, forcing the words from his mouth past the knot that had formed in his throat, making it hard to continue speaking. “I’m very sorry for you.”

Amelia, who had looked him in the eye while he spoke, shook her head and looked down at her father’s grave once again, the faintest hint of a smile on her face.

“It’s alright,” she said simply, lifting her eyes to his. “He did good.” 

“That he did,” Vax agreed, remembering the man’s steadfast determination to protect them from discovery by the Herd, even when he hardly knew them. The world could use more people like Reginald, Vax thought to himself.

They stood in silence for a heartbeat, sharing a moment of stillness before Amelia sucked in a loud breath and sighed, rolling her shoulders back, where they surely hurt from several long hours of digging and lifting dirt. But the girl seemed used to a good day’s work and stood tall once again.

“Let’s- go ahead and make sure the rest of these folk have more to look forward to, shall we?”

Vax nodded and felt a distinct rush of pride for the young woman standing in front of him. There she was, close to the same age he and his sister had been when they ran away from Syngorn, but she didn’t retreat into herself despite the calamity suffered. She was ready to face whatever came her way, just like her father.

He looked up at her again and found himself caught with an intense gaze, a searching stare he usually turned on others and rarely had directed at him, except by his sister and other members of Vox Machina. Scanlan or Vex’ahlia were usually at the front of the pack, having their motives and words examined with intent. He, on the other hand, was in the shadows when he could be.

Not given the time to hide his expression from the younger woman, Vax didn’t make an effort to, and he let himself be studied for a few brief seconds.

Amelia’s eyes searched his face and before he knew it she had reached out an arm to rest on his shoulder, her face steady and serious, looking older than her years.

“You carry too much sadness with you,” Amelia stated, hardly pausing before she continued, “You’ve done a lot of good… Let yourself- Let yourself understand and… _accept_ the fact that you’ve done a lot of good.”

His eyes were locked on hers, her words travelling slowly from his ears to his brain, as if the sounds were moving through several hundred yards of space instead of a couple feet. By the time they did register as words, as a whole sentence, Amelia had already started back to Westruun, walking away from a conversation as he often did.

Vax’s lips curved up in a smile at the thought, and a spark of admiration grew in his chest for the girl. She reminded him of Cassandra de Rolo, he realized. Strong, determined, and not afraid to state difficult truths. He was sure Amelia would be able to help Kerrek set Westruun right again, should she choose to step up to a position of authority.

He watched her walk back to the city, not staring at her, but keeping an eye on the mane of red hair, making sure she didn’t get into any trouble on the short trek back across the fields. His mind drifted for a moment, imagining a different bearer of red locks in front of him, and he shook the image away from his mind’s eye, making sure Amelia had disappeared into the city gate before slipping away into the growing shadows of the evening.

First he wound his way through the same cornfield they had traversed only days prior, where Horus had been slain and hidden away. Vax skirted the crumpled stalks where they had taken out the goliath, and picked up his pace, heading for a single large oak bordering the property on the next hill over, which would guarantee him a view of the surrounding area.

Climbing the tree was not too difficult, especially as Vax had plenty of practice from years on his own with just his sister (and, later, Trinket) for company. He vaulted up to the lowest branch, then climbed several branches higher, nestling himself in-between two branches that formed a “v”. Nearly two stories up in the air, he would be able to see anyone approaching from almost a mile any direction, and was mostly hidden from passersby, especially with the fading light.

Privacy ensured, Vax let his mind wander, dwelling on Amelia’s words, and the sincerity with which she’d spoken them.

_"You carry too much sadness… understand and accept the fact that you’ve done a lot of good.”_

“Wise words from one so young,” he muttered to himself, idling tossing one of his daggers in his hand, watching the glint of the blade reflect the dying sunlight.

Vax honestly couldn’t deny the fact that she had spoken the truth. He carried sadness with him like an ever-present cloak, the weight of guilt and loss a reminder to do good, to do better than he had before. And it was hard for him to remember that, quite a bit of the time, they _did_ manage to accomplish the good they set out to do.

For someone who had lost a parent to their quest? For her to remind him that what they did truly _was_ good, was _worth_ _it_? It helped burn away a bit of the sadness and regret.

Vax remembered the face of Theodore’s mother, Yulia, when reunited with her son, the young boy accidentally slain during the battle with the Herd in the town square. Vax’s hand closed around the hilt of his dagger and simply held it for a moment as the half-elf closed his eyes, bringing to mind the vision of her worried face morphing into a delighted smile, her eyes bright with tears of joy.

Shale’s haggard face came to his mind next, her steadfast demeanor despite physical ailments, her determination to see the fight through to the end, and the satisfaction she’d felt once Umbrasyl had been slain, partially by her own hand, appearing in his memory. Vax also remembered the scene as Shale walked away from the fight out to the mountains, still limping but emboldened by their success.

The last image to flash through his head was that of Zanroar and his pregnant mate, Worra. So ready to fight, the both of them, and yet they knew when to retreat from a battle. Their son or daughter would now be able to live in peace while the Horde regrouped and made their living away from civilization. The relief on their faces had matched the relief of so many of the townsfolk at hearing of Umbrasyl’s defeat, proving to any who had seen them that the Horde and the people of Westruun really weren’t so different.

Sometimes, Vax thought, he and the rest of Vox Machina got so caught up in the big picture that it was hard to appreciate the little moments. Or, maybe, it was just him. That was completely possible as well. He couldn’t imagine Keyleth forgetting the little things, the small moments. They were what she thrived on, and what kept her the shining light of morality in their darkest times.

Still, they had been focusing so much on the Conclave, on finding ways to defeat Thordak, on looking for the Vestiges, that they didn’t always take the time to see what they had brought to those they helped.

Tyriok the mapmaker? Despite his arm missing, they had sent him on his way with renewed vigor and determination to survive.

Those people from the camp who had been held by orcs in the wilderness had also survived, had lived to tell their story, and they were, hopefully, soon to return to Westruun to continue their lives.

As much as they were wont to forget it, Vox Machina brought hope to the people of Exandria. Perhaps they needed to take a brief moment and look at the now instead of what would be coming next.

Vax lingered in the tree until the sun finally started to slip below the horizon, providing long shadows to the trees that stretched across the lowly rolling hills around Westruun. Silent as a mouse, he leapt down from the oak, letting his knees bend as he landed to absorb the shock from the fall. Vax walked to the western gate, where they had set a trap for the Herd, and avoided the few farmers who were leaving the city and heading back to their homesteads. Unnoticed, he made his way into the city, around the trench created by Keyleth only a few days earlier, and back to the inn where they were staying.

It didn’t surprise him that most of Vox Machina had retired to their rooms already, nor that the tavern portion of the inn had few patrons despite the early hour of evening. The whole of Westruun was looking ahead to several long days of moving their city underground and getting the word out to family members that it was safe to return. They had partied the night before, and that was all the celebration they needed.

Vax, in scanning the room, saw only Percy and Scanlan among the other patrons, though they couldn’t have been doing more different things.

Scanlan, ever the performer, was standing on his chair at a table, regaling the surrounding men and women, perhaps seven or eight of them, with the story of being caught in a dragon’s stomach, swallowed alive. And, somehow, they managed to escape, cutting their way out of the beast and returning to fight and slay the monster before it could recover. His audience stared, wide-eyed, at the recount of the battle, and gasped and cheered when the gnome spoke of a particularly close save or a lucky hit.

Vax had to admit, when Scanlan told the story it seemed much more heroic than being stuck in a dragon’s small intestine, trying desperately to puncture its hide while also suffocating, or of being caught in a cloud of wasps, then getting practically dissolved by acid.

Yes, he would leave the storytelling to the bard.

Percy, on the other hand, was in the farthest corner away from the revelry, intently hunched over his sketchbook, which was laid out in front of him, scribbling what Vax assumed were more ideas to be tested and tinkered with.

Vax felt a now-familiar distrust and rage bubble up inside him at the sight of the white-haired man. Over the last couple of days it had almost lain dormant, busy as they were with trying to take down Umbrasyl. He’d had to admit, as well, that the tinkerer’s trap for the massive dragon had helped them win the fight, and that Percival had been very much willing to die for them, falling unconscious to the acid the black beast had sprayed over their party.

But Vax also remembered the way his sister had run first to Trinket, then to the human, checking on both of them to see if they were alright, almost with the same amount of concern. The fact that his sister had cooed over the man who had gotten her killed as much as she had the companion she’d had for a much longer time, who had been nothing but loyal to her, irked Vax more than just a bit. He was frustrated that his sister didn’t understand the severity or the depth of de Rolo’s foolhardiness that was akin to betrayal, and it felt like he was charming her away from hating him.

A feral instinct rose in Vax that made him want to pounce across the room and start a full-on brawl with Percival (which, of course, Vax would win, preferably with the human’s face punched in and his glasses shattered), but he pushed it down. With the Conclave still having such an impact it was not the time for infighting. Vax absently rubbed the back of his hand, where the symbol of Sarenrae had once shone brightly, and considered second chances.

His hand came up to clasp the metal raven’s skull Percival had given him and he considered the goddess who had claimed him in order to give his sister a second chance at life.

Sighing, Vax let the skull fall against the armor he wore and he broke from the shadow he’d lingered in. He ascended the stairs at the back of the inn to the floor they were staying on, turning to the right where their rooms were all gathered at one end of the hall. He passed by Grog and Pike’s rooms, but paused outside Keyleth’s door, fingers twitching as his hand drifted up to knock.

He held his hand suspended in the air for one, two, three long seconds before lowering it to his side again and moving onto the next door, not even bothering with a knock as he slipped inside, greeted with his sister’s room, the curtains drawn to provide some extra darkness to the interior, though his half-elf eyesight cut through the gloom without any trouble.

There was a brief moment of fear when he saw the bed was empty, but it was quickly rectified when he saw a lithe form curled up next to Trinket, fingers buried deep in his fur. The bear snuffled and blinked his eyes open, noting an intruder, but Vax was quick to settle him, scratching the bear’s chin with a couple fingers.

“Just here to check on your mama, buddy,” he whispered, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the sleeping form of his sister. “Making sure she’s safe.”

The bear let out a soft but indignant snort, and Vax chuckled. “No, I’m sure you can keep her perfectly safe. But I needed to make sure she was alright, you know?”

Trinket snuffled and Vax could have sworn the bear rolled his eyes. Vax just patted the large furry head and examined his sister’s face. It was peaceful, and Vax thanked Sarenrae once again that she was there before him, alive and breathing and well.

After a moment of stillness, and at a strange prompting from deep within his chest, Vax also sent a hesitant thanks to the Raven Queen. He wasn’t sure where that road would lead, but he knew whatever he owed her was not yet paid in full.

Glancing down at the raven feathers adorning his armor, Vax wondered if it ever would be.

Trinket’s wet nose found his wrist and he scratched the bear’s head a couple more times, trying to take Amelia’s advice and focus on the good they had done, the good they were doing.

He knew that Vox Machina was planning on returning to Vassalheim soon. Perhaps while there he would be able to find out what exactly the Raven Queen would have him do. Something his sister had said to him in Whitestone echoed in Vax’s mind, and he closed his eyes, dwelling on the thought.

_"I don’t think she’s as horrible as you’re afraid she is.”_

He had disagreed with her then, especially as her tone of voice had belied the fact she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to comfort him. And yet now he found himself agreeing. While the Raven Queen was foreboding and ominous, especially in the dreams she had sent him, she was not in and of herself frightening or dangerous – not that he’d found. He supposed he would have to take time to find out who she really was.

But there was little he could do at an inn in Westruun, and so Vax stood, murmuring a goodnight to Trinket and his sister as he did so. Shooting one last glance over his shoulder as he left, Vax noted with amusement the sorry-looking state of Vex’ahlia’s braid. He would have to fix that in the coming days, when they had a moment or two of downtime.

Edging quietly out of the room, Vax returned to his own quarters and changed into bedclothes quickly, washing his nails and hands of any dirt that had accumulated there throughout the day. When he was finished he slipped into his bed, checking there was a dagger beneath his pillow before he drifted off to sleep.

At the open window a raven fluttered down, landing gently on the sill. Its head quirked to one side, its dark eyes bright in the moonlight drifting down from the heavens. There it stood, vigilant, still and steady as a mountain for several long minutes until it cawed softly and flew off on silent wings, disappearing into the black of the night.

**Author's Note:**

>  _"It's the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen."_  
>  -Josh Wooden


End file.
